Open Window
by Seohyun-Moon
Summary: John continues to cope over the death of Sherlock. As days grow into weeks, hints of Sherlock being alive start to appear, leaving John in a state of disbelief and a heart yearning for truth. His adventure begins with a single message...
1. Chapter 1: Message

People often ask me, "John what do you see when you look out the window?"

My response, "I see people going about their daily lives. But…" I breathe in and slowly breathe out, "but I can't seem to go about over what I want to do with mine…"

**Chapter 1: Message **

It's been weeks since I remained standing here in front of the window, looking out and pondering the reasons why Sherlock Holmes decided to die. I've flung my cell phone to the wall about fifty times due to the stress in my hand. There have been no calls since his death. No clients coming to the door since the lies broadcasted all over the news. No one wants to believe in what I say about Sherlock. I want to sell the apartment but I can't, I haven't stopped believing. Believing in that Sherlock, in some way, in some light of hope, he's still alive.

"John?"

I stood myself straight back up; I almost leaned over into my cane. I turned around and saw Mrs. Hudson holding a tray of tea and cookies.

"John, have you considered moving out?" she asked placing the tray upon the cluttered table of books.

"No, not yet," I replied carefully, "I don't have any other place to go."

"But John, it's been weeks. He's not coming back," she reminded me.

"I know! I KNOW!" I screamed looking back outside the window. The ache in my hand returned again as I clenched my fist. I could feel Mrs. Hudson looking back at me with such disappointment.

"We all got to move on at some point," she said firmly.

I heard her footsteps walk out the door and down the stairs.

The day turned to night fall. I lay on my bed with my cell phone on my chest and started to remember the first time I met Sherlock. He surprised me the very moment he could read me clearly. No matter how much I tried reading him in return, all I can come up with is….He's simply just Sherlock Holmes. He will always remain my greatest friend who showed me adventure. So why am I laying here with my cell phone? Could I possibly be waiting here for a sign? Or maybe an answer as to when I would move on with my life? I breathed out another sigh.

"John maybe it's time to move out," I thought out loud, "there's no other reason for you to be here."

I got off from my bed, placed my cell phone on the dresser, and walked over to the closet fighting back the limp in my leg. Opening the doors, I pulled out my single luggage bag, and laid it on the floor. Unzipping it and opening it up, I discovered a single piece of paper inside. I remember emptying my luggage the moment I moved in here, so why would this be here? I picked up the paper and opened it up. There were a few words written on the parchment:

"I'm always here"

I lowered hands…What? No, I must be going crazy. It's definitely Sherlock's hand writing, but when was this note ever placed here? And in such an obvious manner too! As if he knew I would be leaving at some point. So does that mean, even after death he knew? Is he even dead? I've been stressed out ever since, and this note is supposed to comfort me?!

"Sherlock, don't treat me this way…Don't pester me," I said feeling displeased. I closed up my luggage and placed it back in the closet. I'm going back to bed and resting this off. There's no way this note can be written the way it is. It's too good to be true! Sherlock can't have woken up beyond the grave to give this to me, no way! I stood up carefully and trudged slowly towards my bed. As I made my way, I placed the note upon the dresser next to my cell phone. Laying back into my bed, I pulled over my covers and started to reminisce. Sherlock playing his violin, his constant footsteps echoing in the apartment, and his small talk to himself every single night, as I tried to sleep and ignore him. The walls were so thin, I could even hear him whisper. Yet, even though it was quiet enough for me to sleep, my loud thoughts wouldn't shut up. I started feeling a sense of loss again. I felt my tears reach the edge of my eye lids.

"You're always here?" I spoke, "THEN PROVE IT! You're full of tricks Sherlock! THEN PROVE IT, IF YOU'RE SO CLEVER!"

"DING!"

My message tone, on my phone, gave a rang. I laid there, motionless...My eyes widened.

~to be continued


	2. Chapter 2: J

Chapter 2: "J"

I got up from the bed instantly and rushed to the dresser; I nearly tripped. I picked up my phone and pressed the power button to view the lock screen, "1 message" it read. I unlocked the screen quickly, went to the message menu, and opened up the message.

"I need to speak with you in the morning, possibly around 9 A.M. – Inspector Lestrade"

I stared at the screen for a moment. Damn…I was so close. I shut my phone, placed it back on the dresser, and walked back to bed. I'll go to sleep; my hope has been lost for tonight.

I opened my eyes and was welcomed by the daylight shining brightly on my face. I covered the sunlight with my hand as I sat up. I looked towards the clock, and the hands read "8:45 A.M."; Lestrade should be here in 15 minutes. As I got out of bed to get ready, I thought about why Lestrade would want to see me. I haven't been up to date on the news as much. As I finished dressing up, I grabbed my cane and walked out of the room. I then turned on the T.V. and there on the screen, sure enough, another murder. The police haven't found any other suspects. I gave a small chuckle, "well if Sherlock were here, he'd probably caught the criminal already." I remembered how silly he looked during his thought process. I decided to imitate him.

"Don't bother me! I'm in my mind palace!" I shouted with a soft chuckle.

I moved my hands in motion with my eyes were closed.

"Funny," I heard a voice say.

I opened my eyes and looked to my right. Lestrade stood there, hands in his coat pocket, with a small smile. I felt my cheeks flare up from embarrassment.

"Ah, Inspector Lestrade, what brings you here?" I asked lowering my hands and grabbing my cane. I walked over to him and gave him a firm handshake.

"Have you been up to date over what's been happening?" Lestrade asked as he glanced over the T.V.

"Just now yes," I replied, "this is actually the first time I've opened up the T.V. to see the news."

He gave a slight nod; I could tell he didn't look impressed as the newscaster said no suspects have been caught.

"I received an odd message very early this morning," Lestrade spoke as he felt into his pockets, "I feel like someone is playing a prank on us."

He pulled out his phone and went to the message menu. He clicked on one of the top messages and flashed the screen to my face.

The message read, "Wrong."

I moved back slightly, "Wait…How early? You mean this morning at about 1 A.M. or so?"

"Yes," Lestrade replied quickly, "unfortunately, there's no phone number to trace the source. I feel like someone is using Sherlock as a joke to taunt the police." He placed his phone back in his pockets and looked towards me. "Do you have any leads? Anything strange going on since Sherlock's death?" he asked.

"I've got one," I replied. I walked past him and headed to my room to retrieve the small paper on my drawer. As I got back, I handed him the paper. He opened it carefully and read it.

"I found that in my luggage, which by the way, I haven't opened ever since I first moved here," I explained looking over to see the message in his hands, "it looks exactly like Sherlock's handwriting, but I have no idea when he placed it in there."

Lestrade looked at the paper for a few silent moments. He shook his head slightly and came to a small conclusion, "I'll keep this in mind," he said handing the paper back to me.

"Have you considered moving out John? Or planned to take a vacation somewhere?" Lestrade asked looking concerned, "I don't think staying here is doing you any good."

"What do you mean?" I asked wanting a further explanation.

"Well it looks like you're cooped up in here still grieving over Sherlock. You should do something new, go on a date, whatever you want!" he suggested, "try to get some fresh air."

"I'll think it over," I confirmed. I closed my hand around the paper and placed it in my jean pocket.

He patted me on my shoulder, "I best be going," he said as he walked past me, "let me know if you got any more leads on Sherlock!"

He headed downstairs and I heard the front door open, then close. I looked over to the T.V. and weather report flashed onto the screen. It's going to rain today…Looks like I can't get any fresh air outside right now.

I stayed in my room and laid on my bed for the rest of the day. I hoped the rain would get lighter by this afternoon, but it continued to pour harder outside. I picked up a few books from Sherlock's shelf earlier and took a quick read through some of the chapters. I felt bored, some of the stories felt way too detailed. As I was about to close the book, something fell out and landed on my chest. Another mysterious paper?

I placed the book beside me and picked up the paper. The paper appeared folded very carefully and over multiple times. As I opened it up, it revealed an entire violin music sheet. The title of the song at the top wrote "No Other Love by Jo Stafford". My eyebrows lowered, "A LOVE SONG?" I thought surprised, "why would Sherlock have this?" This is very strange; I've never heard Sherlock play a love song on his violin. Maybe this was supposed to be for Irene? But he would have thrown this away already, so why was it kept in a book? I observed the music sheet for any clues. From the light of the lamp, I saw something faint in the corner. It looked like something written in pencil, but slightly erased too. It looked like the letter "J". Strange…Did he have any interest in a woman with a "J" in her name? I thought he was "married to his work"?! I felt even more confused. I heard footsteps walking upstairs.

"John, are you here?" I heard Mrs. Hudson's voice call.

I got off my bed, took my cane, and walked to my bedroom door.

"Yes I'm here!" I replied back opening the door and walking out to the hallway.

"Oh there you are!" she said relieved as I walked up to her, "thought you might have left. I made some more cookies if you want some."

"Ah…" I began to say. I realized I was still holding the music sheet in my hand. "Mrs. Hudson, I forgot to speak with you over something earlier this morning."

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"I found a note in my luggage last night, when I thought about packing my things," I explained while taking out the small paper from my jean pocket and handing it to her, "I can tell that's Sherlock's handwriting."

She stared at the paper looking skeptical as Lestrade did this morning.

"Oh John, he must have left this before he passed away," she sighed while handing it back to me, "he's always doing mysterious things. You know him!"

"Yes but, explain this!" I continued, handing her the music sheet, "he doesn't keep love songs lying around. This time, I found that in his books. I thought he took no interest in anyone, but his work."

She smiled, "must have been for you my dear!" She gave the music sheet back to me and winked, "I felt like you two had something going on with your constant bickering upstairs!"

"He's my best friend and nothing more Mrs. Hudson," I clarified as she turned away from me to walk back to the stairs.

She turned to me after talking a few steps, "I understand you miss him greatly John, but there's no reason to ponder so long over these notes. He's not coming back," she said with a sad tone in her voice. She faced forward and continued walking downstairs.

I folded back the music sheet and placed it in my jean pocket along with the small note. I know he's not coming back, but it's been weeks, so why the sudden trail of messages? As much as there was doubt clouding my judgment, I still feel that small light of hope, but…Should I keep questioning? Should I still believe? At the same time, Lestrade is right. I should go out there and pick up my life up once again. Maybe meet and date other women like I used to.

I walked downstairs to the kitchen and sat at the table. In front of me was a tray full of cookies. Mrs. Hudson walked back and forth from the cabinets, putting utensils away and cleaning up the dishes. As I picked up a cookie and started to eat, I heard a violin play outside.

"Isn't it strange John? After Sherlock passes, we've been getting this man playing different songs on his violin once each week," Mrs. Hudson explained as she wiped one of the dishes, "I almost had a heart attack. I thought it was Sherlock for sure when I first walked out there and confronted the man. But he was just a homeless violin player making a stop at our street."

"Yes it is strange," I replied in agreement.

For a moment, I heard the violin music change to a different tune. I started to feel my hand cramp up once again as I made a fist. I recognized the melody; it was "No Other Love".

~to be continued


	3. Chapter 3: Blue

Chapter 3: Blue

I heard my phone ring. What time is it? I squinted into the darkness and looked around for my phone. I felt it beside me under the covers. I saw the shine of light through parts of the sheets. I quickly picked it up and answered, "Hello?"

"Yes is this Mister John Watson?" the voice asked.

"Who's this?" I questioned.

"I'm one of the doctors from St. Bartholomew's Hospital," the man explained, "I happened to find a paper bag here, in one of the labs, with your name and phone number written on it."

"Wait, what?" I felt so confused. I didn't leave anything there the last time I was with Sherlock.

"Would you like to pick it up? I'll be here in the labs till 12 P.M.," the man suggested as I heard some shuffling in the background, "Have you been here before? Do you know where the labs are?"

"Yes and yes I do. I'll be there before then," I agreed.

I closed my phone and looked up to the clock; it was 7 A.M. in the morning.

It took a while for me to grab a cab during the early 9 A.M. morning. Sherlock, what the hell is going on? These trails of clues are getting more and more peculiar. I placed my hand over my jean pocket, I realized the note and music sheet were still tucked inside my pocket.

I got off in front of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. It was the first time in a long time, since I stood in front of this place with Sherlock. I glanced over to the spot where he had fallen... I felt a sudden tightness in my chest as I looked away.

Walking with my cane felt like it took forever to reach the hallway with all the laboratories. I checked through each window on the doors to see if I can find someone inside. Each one of the rooms was empty and dark, until I found one with the lights on. I peeked through the window and saw a man sitting inside. He was wearing a pair of glasses, had short dark brown hair, and wore a long white lab coat. He was busy looking through one of the microscopes. I then noticed the small paper bag, he told me on the phone, sitting on the table. It looked bulky enough to contain something inside. I opened the door and walked inside the lab. The door gave a loud squeak as it shut behind me. The man heard my entrance; he looked up and gave me a smile.

"Hello!" he greeted, "I didn't think you'd get here early."

"I didn't think so either," I replied as I walked over with my cane. Damn leg, I thought.

He picked up the bag, got off the stool he was sitting on, and handed it over to me.

"I don't know how it got in here. Usually the doors to the labs are locked, but it was in here this morning. I've tried asking the other doctors if they had left it, but none of them claimed the bag," the man explained looking a bit puzzled, "sorry for the inconvenience." He noticed my cane.

"Oh it was no trouble at all," I lied while lifting and looking at the bag. I saw my name written on the bag in fine print with my phone number. I couldn't recognize the hand writing unfortunately, if it was a male or a female who wrote it. The doctor gave me a nod and walked back to his seat. He continued looking through the microscope.

Suddenly, I remembered something. I haven't seen Molly Hooper ever since Sherlock's accident. Could she possibly be here? Maybe she dropped off this bag? But, I don't remember switching phone numbers with her. I perked up a question, "Have you seen Molly Hooper by the way?" The doctor gave his head a slight tilt. He looked up back at me with a confused look on his face.

"I'm sorry who?" he asked. He didn't hear me the first time.

"Molly Hooper," I repeated.

"No, I personally don't know anyone here by that name. I just started working here last week actually," he clarified, "sorry."

"Um, okay thank you," I said taking his brief answer. He's not the right person to consult about her then, but I don't know anyone else here who would know Molly. Enough questioning, I'm wasting my time wondering on things I can't find an answer to yet, I should head home.

I exited the room and continued my way out of the hospital. Walking outside, I looked around the streets for any available cabs passing by. None appeared on the street for a minute or two.

"No cabs at this hour?" I questioned out loud as I looked at my watch. It was exactly 9:30 A.M., how are there no cabs present?

"John? Is that you?" I heard a female voice call behind me.

I turned around and recognized the woman approaching me. "Sarah?" I called to her.

"Yes! John it's been so long!" she said breathlessly. She skipped up towards me, her face beaming with her beautiful smile. She gave me a quick embrace, I felt speechless.

"How have you been?" she asked releasing me. I hesitated for a moment.

"Oh! I'm-I'm fine! How about you, how have you been?" I asked smiling back at her.

"Good! You were looking a bit stressed, is everything all right?" she asked curiously while examining my face. My eye bags must be pasted on my face again. She then looked down and noticed the cane in my hand, "Oh! What happened?" she asked with concern.

"Just a condition I've been having, it's nothing really!" I admitted keeping up my smile, "I've just been trying to figure out a few things with my life, you know how that goes." Please don't ask about Sherlock, I thought.

"You should go back to my work place then, get your mind out of what's bothering you," she offered, "we'll accept you back for sure."

"We'll see," I quickly said, "I'm not sure if I want to go back working as a doctor." What I used to do with Sherlock felt right. I started to look down back at the paper bag in my hand.

"What's that?" Sarah asked noticing the bag.

"Oh ah…I was told to pick this up earlier here at the hospital," I answered. I need to change the subject; I don't want to explain about the bag. "Are you busy by the way? Were you on your way going to somewhere?" I asked looking back up at her.

"No, I just wanted to take a stroll around the block before my work hour," she explained looking a little surprised of my sudden questioning.

"Ah right right," I quickly responded.

She started to look a bit disappointed by my attitude.

"Well you seem busy, I'm sorry for interrupting your day John," she apologized.

"No, I ah-," I began while trying to find an answer, "I should be sorry. I'm just in a rush to get home. But how about this, let's switch contacts? I'll call you up when I find the time to catch up with you." Hopefully this will make up for my quick and short responses.

"Oh sure!" she said cheery while pulling out her phone from her pocket. She instantly went to her address book menu. I took out my phone too and entered her number as she dictated it to me. I did the same to her for my number. When she was done punching in the keys, she placed her phone away and looked towards me.

"Take care okay John? I hope your leg feels better," she said to me. Without hesitation I saw her stand up on her toes. Her face went close to mine and to my surprise; she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. When she lowered flat on her feet, she gave me a bright smile, patted me on the shoulder, and walked away. I stood there a bit shocked. As I turned back at her, she didn't turn around, she continued walking. We hadn't seen each other after I left her workplace. It was that same day I decided I would continue pursuing the work I partnered with Sherlock. I thought she moved on with her life after that and started dating someone else. I guess…She still has feelings for me? I couldn't help, but feel a rush of joy. I felt the wind pick up beside me. The paper bag tapped the side of my leg. That's right…I need to head home.

I looked up and down the street to spot a cab, luckily one showed up. I called it over and it stopped by the curb in front of me. Getting inside, while putting my cane and the bag on the seat, I told the cabbie the address to the apartment. I sat down inside and pulled the door firmly shut. After a while on the road and half way home, I gazed at the bag sitting beside me. Why not now? I thought. Out of my anxiousness, I picked up the bag, unfolded the top, and peeked inside. I saw a piece of cloth at the bottom of the bag. I pulled it out and the cloth revealed to be a scarf with the color of blue. My heart sank…This was Sherlock's scarf.

~to be continued


	4. Chapter 4: Fever

Chapter 4: Fever

I pushed through the storefront door and went up to the counter. I pressed the bell multiple times until the sound of the _dings_ hurt my ears. Mrs. Hudson walked out from the back kitchen, looking annoyed from the noise.

"John! I'm cooking in the back! My goodness!" she complained as she approached the front counter.

"Look at this!" I said with frustration as I pulled scarf out from the bag, "explain this!"

Her face was caught in awe as she recognized the scarf. She knew exactly who it belonged to.

"John, how did you get a hold of that?" she asked sounding upset while her eyes remained fixated on the scarf.

"A doctor at St. Bartholomew's Hospital told me to pick this up today because the bag had my contact information written on it. He assumed it was mine," I flashed her the side of the bag with my name and phone number written across it, "it's not in Sherlock's handwriting. I can't even tell if it's a woman or a man who wrote it. I thought it might have been Molly, but appears she hasn't been working at the hospital since Sherlock's passing."

Mrs. Hudson shook her head slowly from side to side, "It's just odd. For you to be finding all these things Sherlock left behind altogether within a week," she said placing her hand over her mouth in disbelief.

"Yes well…." I placed the scarf back in the bag and placed it on top of the table, "I'm upset even more." I felt the temperature in my blood rise.

"Oh John," she began to say.

"I'm upset!" I slammed my fist into the counter, "I'm upset because…If Sherlock was the one to bring this up to me, why hasn't he come out and shown himself already?! If someone is playing this as a game, I'm not having fun with it! This is a sick joke!"

There was a moment of silence. I stared at the floor boards below, feeling my eyebrows greatly furrow. I heard Mrs. Hudson give a sniffle.

"John, maybe he's alive?" Mrs. Hudson spoke softly as she caught herself tearing up a little.

I looked up towards her, "Maybe?" I said still feeling a small drop of doubt.

"Well this is his scarf. Thought for sure it was buried together with him. After all the funeral services didn't ask for any other clothing for his burial," she recalled.

"Yes, but he was delivered to St. Bartholomew's Hospital first thing during the incident. Someone could have removed his scarf and set it aside. Then found Sherlock's phone, from the roof, to obtain my contact –only weeks later, to decide to give his scarf to me. I still have a feeling it might be Molly, seeing as how she ironically isn't at the hospital," I explained further with great detail.

I thought this through during the taxi ride. The incident passed like lightning, I had forgotten to speak with Molly about what happened to Sherlock. I was caught up sorting things out with Mrs. Hudson, the press, the police, explaining the details to Lestrade, the hospital, and funeral services. Everything was a complete mess, that in order to sort out my mind, I went back to therapy. As much as I could have eased my grievances in writing my blog, I lost my entire motivation to write. I felt completely empty….And alone. It was just like the old days.

I felt a hand pat my left shoulder. I turned my head to look back at Mrs. Hudson. She leaned over the counter to rub my shoulder and give me a small comforting smile. I didn't realize I was caught in my own thoughts.

"John, do what you can, but don't stress on it," she advised me. I gave a huge sigh and she continued to say, "as much as we may question beyond these notes and the scarf, the answer may come to you when you least expect it."

When I _least_ expect it, is that it? Should I distract myself from seeking the truth in all this? When will I get my final answer?

"Whether it's Sherlock who's leaving these objects behind, or someone trying to reach out to you about Sherlock," she explained carefully, "maybe it's best to allow them to keep coming to you till you have all the pieces to figure this out." She moved back to be behind the counter again. She held her smile as she looked to me, and I gave a small polite smile back in return. I felt some slight of ease from her words, but the stab of pain from feeling upset was still there in my heart.

"Cheer up John. It's hard seeing you stress out over this, especially with your condition," she said with great concern.

"I'll be fine," I quickly said. I hope I'm not stressing her out in return with how I reacted earlier, "sorry for slamming the counter a moment ago." Suddenly I heard a loud hiss coming from the back. I had forgotten she was cooking.

"OH MY SOUP!" she cried, "I'll talk to you later John!"

She ran back towards the kitchen in a flash. "Oh it over flowed! Look at this mess!" I heard her complain.

I took the bag off the table and started to walk along with my cane. She has a point; maybe I should stop questioning and allow the answers to come to me. Though, I just remembered, I have to inform Lestrade about the scarf.

Back inside the living room, I sat over in my usual chair. I took out my phone from my pocket and looked at the time; it was officially 11:30 A.M. I went to the message menu and pressed the "New Message" icon. I began to type:

"I found something that I need you to examine. Text me when it's best to meet with you."

_Sent._

Lestrade should have my message any minute now, time to wait for his response.

Hours had passed; no response from Lestrade yet. It was already night. I used up my free time looking up emails, watching shows on the television, reading more books on Sherlock's shelf, and drinking some tea. While walking around in the apartment, I realized how cold it turned out be inside. As much as I wore my sweater, I still felt the cold piercing into my skin. My throat started to feel a bit dry too. I touched my forehead; feels very warm. This isn't good, am I coming down with something?

I walked to the medicine cabinet, in the bathroom, opened it. I looked at each of the containers of pills till I found one for fevers. I drank a couple of pills down with some of my left over tea. I should go to bed soon, the effects of feeling drowsy should hit me at any moment now. As soon as I got into bed, I wrapped the covers around me. For what it seemed like a long stretch of silence, I suddenly heard a sound. No...A tune...The tune sounded like...A violin. Where is it coming from?! I sat up and gave a small listen. The tune sounded very close...Too close... Sherlock?!

I ran as fast as I could, following the sound of the tune till I reached Sherlock's room. I quickly pushed through the door and saw a tall figure standing in front of the window, it's back turned towards me. I could recognize the silhouette none other than Sherlock himself! He was wearing his purple collar shirt and black slacks. He was holding his violin and playing it, while slowing swaying from side to side. The song he was playing was "No Other Love"; I could feel the passion he was putting into playing the entire song. I was breathless from the quick rush, but more from seeing his presence, alive in front of me. I was at a loss for words, where do I begin?! How was Sherlock here?! How did he get into the apartment?

"Sh-Sherlock!" I said with a small stutter as drops of my sweat fell down from my forehead. My fever broke out finally.

When he played the last note, he took a pause. He lowered his violin and heaved a great sigh. Then, he dropped his violin to the floor. He turned around carefully and recognized me as his eyes met mine. He gave a huge smile. My eyes widened with surprise. Sherlock hardly ever smiled for anyone.

"I'm sorry John," he first spoke. My lips quivered, what do I say? How are you alive?! I-what can I say?...John think! Hurry! Answer him!

He started to take a few steps towards me, "For weeks, I questioned how much my impulsive suicidal attempt has caused you such great pain," he started to say, "but you must plant this in your mind that I simply did it to protect you and everyone else."

"P-Protect?" I began to say. There's so much I want to say, but I felt so physically and mentally frozen. What's wrong with me?

As soon as I blinked, he stood right in front of me. I could see tears forming at the edge of his eyelids.

"You're a true loyal friend, John. You're the only person in this world, who fully accepts me and continues to believe in me, despite all the suffering I put you through," he confessed, "I owe you such a great deal."

In the million years I believed this wouldn't happen, Sherlock embraced me. Now I was blank out of my mind over what to say. As I fidgeted to pull away, he wouldn't release me. Maybe I should just return the friendly gesture? But THIS! THIS felt very awkward. What is making Sherlock do this? This isn't very normal of him to do. As much as I wanted to punch him in the face for making me upset these past few weeks, I felt such a release. I realized I could feel his heartbeat.

As I slowly raised my arms to embrace him in return, he disappeared. I gasped and stepped back. I looked around me. He's gone! He vanished!

"Sherlock?!" I called, "where'd you go?!" I felt my back touch the wall as I moved back and looked around the room in panic. H-How did that h-happen?!

I quickly felt warmth around my neck and a squeeze on my right shoulder. I heard a whisper in my ear, "I'm sorry John." I recognized it as Sherlock's voice, "I'm always here. I'm always watching over you." Shadows started to pour into the room. I found myself shrouded in complete darkness. I shut my eyes tightly.

I open my eyes. I felt warm sweat across my forehead. I felt a heavy weight at the top of my head. My blankets were wrapped tightly around me, but something else was wrapped around my neck. I pulled out my hand, underneath the covers, to touch it. It was a soft piece of cloth. I pulled the loose end of it to see exactly what it was. Sherlock's scarf was wrapped around my neck! I sat up instantly in shock. I looked around my room. Was that dream real? I check my surroundings. Door is locked, check. Window….Open?!… A small inch of it was open, allowing some air to pour into the room. I remembered shutting and locking my window this morning, before I left. I released the covers around me, got out of bed, and hurried over to the window. I observed the bottom edges and sides of it to check for any smudged traces of dust. To my surprise, the entire window was wiped clean!

~to be continued


	5. Chapter 5: Encounter

_Author's Note: _

_ Hello everyone! It certainly has been awhile since I updated this fanfic. Please understand that I've been busy with things going on in my current life. This doesn't mean however I'm completely forgetting or putting off the story. I am looking forward to completing this the best way possible, which means yes! I am taking as much time as I can, writing these chapters. If you feel you want to leave any comments or critiques feel free to, I'm open to feedback!_

Chapter 5: Encounter

I took another closer look at the lower panel of the window. I straightened myself back up and walked a few steps back.

"No finger prints," Lestrade announced directly behind me. He closed up his fingerprint kit and took off his gloves, tucking them in his pocket.

"Strange to think Sherlock could possibly be alive," he said turning towards the window. There was a slight pause. "By the way, you're not using your cane? I noticed you've been walking back and forth with that scarf still around your neck."

My heart gave a small jump, I forgot about the scarf AND the cane. I searched for my cane and found it sitting against my bed side stand.

"Yes um! It hadn't occurred to me to use it," I recalled, "my leg has been feeling fine." I cleared my throat a bit as I noticed Lestrade raise his eyebrow.

"Has your condition gotten any better?" he asked with a slight suspicious tone.

"A bit," I quickly responded. Then, there was an awkward silence. "Anyways!" I perked up, "Thank you for coming over to investigate the window. I'll see if I can update you with anything else."

"Well, I could take the scarf for further evidence," Lestrade started to say, "but I can see you're already attached to it…"

I quickly looked away from him. Now I feel really embarrassed.

"I just forgot!" I corrected him while removing the scarf around my neck and placing it gently on the bed. What has gotten into me?

"John, I'll inspect the rest of the building for any more evidence," Lestrade spoke as he turned around, picked up his kit from the bed, and walked out the doorway.

I heard his footsteps drift from one end of the apartment to the other till he was out the door. I suddenly felt my ears burning. What is wrong with me? First I'm not using my cane and second I'm still wearing Sherlock's scarf. Lestrade is picking up my odd behavior faster than I am, when I should be the one aware! I heaved a great sigh and sat on the bed. I faced directly the window.

As I rethought about my dream, I swear, I remember physically feeling a hand on my shoulder and a whisper to my ear, during that point in the dream when I heard Sherlock's voice in the darkness. Could it have been that time? Did he actually visit me? There are no fingerprints however, so how can I make that conclusion with no evidence?

Molly, she's the only one I need to get in touch with, but if only I can find her. I can't return to the hospital and do some search work. I'll make everyone else suspicious of me. I buried my face in my hands. How else am I supposed to find any more clues to the possibility of Sherlock being alive? Wait for more dreams? Wait to hear Sherlock's voice?

"Nothing," I heard directly behind me.

I turned around and saw Lestrade standing by the doorway.

"No other evidence," he continued to say.

I stood up and faced him. "Thanks Inspector," I said while giving a quick nod.

"I'll be going now. Donovan is getting suspicious of my whereabouts," he explained as he waved his phone in the air, "send me a text when you can."

"I will Inspector," I replied, "here let me follow you out the door."

I quickly walked directly towards the doorway and followed Lestrade through the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. Before I closed the door right behind him, Lestrade made a quick turn to me.

"John," Lestrade spoke in a serious tone, "Don't look for him."

What? Before I could say anything, he continued.

"Move on John, before you completely lose sight of yourself," Lestrade warned.

Without another word, he walked away, got into his car, and drove off. I closed the door and started walking back upstairs. Does he think all my grief has disillusioned myself to believe Sherlock has returned? I've accepted much of what happened, haven't I? I'm not going crazy…

As I stood at the living room doorway, I looked over to Sherlock's chair. His violin sat there, unpacked from its case. I walked over and carefully picked it up. I touched the strings and could feel how worn they were from being constantly played. A piece of the dream flashed into my mind. I instantly placed the violin back down. _Ring Ring_. My phone! I quickly walked back to my room.

I peered over to my bed and saw the front screen of my phone flashing Sarah's name. I picked up my phone, pressed the button, and placed it to my ear.

"Hello Sarah," I greeted as I took a seat on my bed.

"John, how are you?" she asked with a cheerful tone, "are you feeling less distracted compared to yesterday?"

"Ah yes, much better. Thanks for asking," I answered giving a smile.

"That's good to hear," she said as I heard a pen tapping in the background, "Um I was wondering…"

"Yes?" I quickly said.

"You want to grab dinner with me later tonight?" she asked curiously.

"Ah! Sure!" I agreed without hesitation.

"That is," she cut in, "you're not busy or anything right? You don't have any of those fun detective cases with Sherlock later?"

"Oh ah..." my voice trailed off. I suddenly realized my left hand on Sherlock's scarf as I looked over at it. Damn, I thought. She doesn't know what happened... "No, I'm not busy tonight," I quickly said getting back into the conversation.

"Great!" she answered with excitement, "I was thinking we would eat at this one restaurant around Northumberland Street."

That name sounds familiar...

"I've forgotten the name of the restaurant, but my coworkers have recommended it plenty of times," she explained.

Northumberland...Northumberland...Why does that sound familiar?

"John?" I heard Sarah's voice call.

"Oh! Um sorry Sarah," I apologized, "I can meet you around there. I think I might know what restaurant you're talking about, it's just the name escapes me."

"All right, I'll meet you there tonight at 7pm," she confirmed.

I heard the beep go off on her end. As I lowered the phone, I glanced back over to Sherlock's scarf that remained around my left hand.

It's 7 P.M. and here I am, standing in front of this familiar restaurant I thought I wouldn't visit again. The restaurant was the first place Sherlock took me to for dinner. I suddenly felt a hand wrap around my arm.

"Hey John," Sarah greeted with a big smile on her face.

"Hey," I sincerely answered returning a smile. I noticed she was wearing a semi-formal black dress. I felt under dressed compared to her with my jeans, but it felt like she was certainly treating this occasion as a date –which I certainly didn't mind.

"You look beautiful tonight," I complimented her as I recognized the tint of her red lipstick on her lips.

I caught the slight pinkish color forming upon her cheeks now despite her make up, "Thanks John," she said embarrassed and slightly squeezing my arm. We went on many dates before, which made me question why we drifted apart to begin with. Considering this a small date, brought a familiar happy spark back.

"Shall we go inside?" I offered as I placed my hand over hers.

"Sure," she replied, her smile widening as I looked into her eyes.

When it couldn't get any more ironic, we were guided to the same table Sherlock and I sat at in front of the window. Instead, I took Sherlock's place and Sarah took mine. After we were handed the menus, I tried my best to keep my composure. I didn't want to drift back into my thoughts about the past. Now isn't the time for that.

"John?" Sarah called over to me. I looked up from the menu towards her, "I realized you're not using your cane! Your leg quickly healed over night?"

"Oh yeah miraculously did!" I joked lightheartedly, "Just getting some rest did the trick."

She smiled in agreement, "That's good. I stand too long at work. Feels like I might need a cane soon too."

We shared a brief chuckle, and then went back to reading over the menus. I did find it strange, however, my leg and hand haven't been in any sort of pain within the past 9 hours I have been awake. Is it all because of Sher-

"John," I heard Sarah call my name again.

I glanced at her for a moment and then quickly noticed the waiter standing to the left of me. Before I could speak to order my soup, someone caught my eye in the back of the room. A woman with her hair tied back and wearing a white dress, walked up to the bar. I couldn't believe it at first, but there she was…

"Irene?" I spoke out loud.

"Who?" Sarah quickly asked.

"Sir?" the waiter said sounding perplexed of my behavior.

"I'm sorry," I said while standing up to get a better view towards the back, "excuse me."

The waiter scooted over to the side as I made my way past him. Just then two other waiters, who were making their way towards the table in front of me, blocked my path.

"Excuse me! Excuse me," I ordered between both of them, but they completely ignored me.

I looked back up to see if I could spot Irene again. I saw her exchange a piece of paper to the bartender and she quickly walked away towards the back door. Her figure, the way she tied back her hair, and her heels. It can't be none other than Irene Adler for sure. She opened the back door and walked right out. I'm too late.

I walked back to the table. Sarah and the waiter continued to stare at me.

"Sir, the bathroom is back there if you wanted to use it," the waiter suggested.

"Oh no, I'm fine. I just thought I saw someone I knew," I clearly explained as I sat back down on my seat.

"Is everything all right John?" Sarah asked with concern.

"Yes, everything is fine," I confirmed with her. I turned back to the menu and looked up to the waiter, "Chicken Soup for me please."

We handed back our menus after our waiter wrote down my order. As he walked away, Sarah turned to me. I picked up my cup of water and was about to take my drink, until…

"How are the detective cases going with Sherlock?" she asked with great interest.

I nearly choked on my water as I took a quick sip. I quickly set back my cup down on the table.

"Sherlock, ah…" I began to say, "Um…" I loosened up my collar for a moment. "Sarah…Ah…" I guess it's time to tell her…

"What is it?" she questioned noticing my hesitation.

"Sherlock isn't with us anymore," I bitterly said not making eye contact with her.

~to be continued


End file.
